Twin Souls
by Hesperides
Summary: In another world he was known as Edward Elric, a child prodigy. Here he is Eragon Shadeslayer, the symbol of hope in a fight against evil. But now the moment comes, and he has to face his enemy-the dragon Shruikan, AKA Envy, what will it come down to?


**Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle and Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't belong to me, this is just a fanfiction. **

**A/N: Um, so, another plot. I find these crossovers are really fun to do. The inheritance cycle is way too overlooked. By the way, sorry to everyone waiting for Fireseeker-I'll post soon. This is just going to be a three part mini project that I felt like I should do…..Hope you all enjoy?**

The day had started out relatively nicely, the Varden waking up lazily, to begin work on random little things, the men training, constructing machines of war, or gambling, the women and children housework, and cooking. It was like any another day the past few weeks, barricaded outside Dras Leona, their little community had begin to take root. It certainly wasn't easy, however, it was the best they had for a long time, and the people could feel themselves on the brink of victory. After all, the red dragon Thorn, and the son of Morzan couldn't stay forever, could they? It was a matter of who could wait the longest, a game that they were determined to win.

Noon approached, and soon the children were sent off to splash in the nearby creek, and if one glanced over a certain moments, they would find a group of young ones, gathered around the Rider, Eragon, and his dragon, Saphira, listening to his stories.

The young Rider seemed to have a lot of stories, these days. Tales of a far off land, of strange machines and a magic called 'science'. This world was quite like ours, he would say. The government was corrupt, and the people suffered under the magicians. However, he continued, a far off expression in his eye, there were two young boys, brothers, who wanted to change that, and so joined the army.

"But why did they join the army if it was doing bad things? Sir?" A young boy asked, hugging his little sister to his chest as he stared at the water. The others around him nodded in agreement.

"Well," the Shadeslayer said, anticipating the question. "They wanted to change things from the inside. And the army offered them something they couldn't refuse."

"What was that?" Ewell, the daughter of a tanner chimed in.

"Ah-yes." Here Eragon seemed to hesitate, slightly, before continuing. "You see, the brothers had both lost a part of themselves, because of-an experiment they did, a foolish one, I must say. The older brother lost his arm, and the younger his whole body!"

"B-but how? How did they survive?" An older boy cried, twelve or thirteen, Eragon guessed. He watched as Saphira dipped her nose into the creek, before replying.

"With the magic they had, the older brother sealed the younger brother's soul to an old piece of armour, as he himself received a metal arm. The only way they could get their bodies back, was with a powerful stone that allowed them to surpass the limits of their magic. The army had information on this stone, see, so the brothers joined in hopes of retrieving their bodies. And changing the country, of course." He nodded, satisfied, as he rubbed his right arm, leather gloves crinkling as he knead at his elbow.

The gloves were a mystery, to everybody. The elves, the dwarfs, and the Varden. Never once, in anybody's memory had they seen his bare hands. No, instead, they were always gloved in pristine, delicate gloves. He didn't even take them off in the sweltering heat of the summer. It was said that Graben, the groom had once stumbled into the Shadeslayer's tent, opening a trunk to find hundreds of pairs of neatly folded white gloved, identical in every with way.

There was also the thing with the cloak too. Bright red, crimson, maroon, whatever they wanted to call it, with it's strange symbol inked on the back, of the snake and the staff. Never did anyone get an explanation, neither did they question it. But it was on hot days like these that they questioned the young man's sanity.

There was speculation, of course. That Eragon's hand was disfigured, missing his pinkie on the left, even. But one look at the perfectly sculpted digits would have anybody doubt it. Okay, so burned, or heavily scarred. However, this didn't seem likely-after all, the man had healed a girl of a cat lip. And Shadeslayer didn't seem like the type who would keep scars out of sentimentality. There was even one rumour going around, that the boy wasn't actually a Rider, and as such, didn't have the Gedway Ignasia. However, those who believed this story were usually bitter, rivals of the elves, or allies of the Council of Elders.

But most were just thankful. They had a warrior and a magician, a powerful one at that, who was also gentle, and kind to their children. And so they let him tell his strange stories, some adults even listening, and soon the entire Varden had known of the Tale of the Brothers. For every day for the past weeks, Eragon would tell the gathered children of the journeys of Edwin and Alwin, creating the image of a wonderful world in their head. Amestris. A place of hope, of gentle countryside, and great cities. Of a mighty Flame bas-er Colonel who over threw a rebellion, of the gentle lady Winry who created Edwin's metal arm, and of a golden haired, golden eyed man who taught a nation.

Everyone had soon become entranced. Who knew a warrior could have such a gentle heart and a vivid imagination. Every day held a different tale, each more exciting, filled with unexpected heroes malicious villains. Today, however, the story had taken a different turn.

"I have a question for you all." Shadeslayer had said to the assembled group of twenty of so children, who would rush back every day to tell their families of each day's story.

"What is it that you learned from these stories?"

"It is vital that you answer me." His long, braided hair swung gently in an arc, gleaming pure gold that it hurt to look at. He stood on a rock on the creek side, sunlight beaten down on his uncovered brow. He gazed at his dragon, who nodded at him.

"Well?" He demanded. Boots tapping impatiently, brown eyes narrowed.

"Erm…" It was Ewell who took a shot. "Sir, what do you mean? Learn from these stories? But they're just-stories!" Shadeslayer frowned before replying.

"Yes, but that's hardly relevant. The fact is they could have happened. So, what did you learn?"

All was silent, until a soft plop was heard. Eragon sighed and sat down on the rock. Before taking his boots off and dipping his feet in the water.

"Ah, well. I guess you can't learn until…" He murmured, before facing the crowd, bright, gentle smile lighting up his face again.

"Have I ever told you about the time Edwin and Alwin went in a mission to a certain coal mine?"

It was the butcher who first noticed it, as he was probably the only one awake at the time, everyone else hiding in bed from the noonday sun. A dark shadow, covering the city. Upon further investigation, some smoke, and then a huge, black head. The butcher felt his stomach tighten, as his hands slipped on the skinning knife. He didn't even notice it as a drop of his own blood wet his fingers. Dropping the blade, he ran.

Eragon was in the middle of his tale, gesticulating wildly as he described the outrageously extravagant food that the sheriff had.

"Roast boar stuffed with pecans, and raspberry pudding with marinade-"

"Shadeslayer!" A soldier ran up, panting. Eragon looked up, startled.

"Yes?"

"It's the city…..he-he's here." The soldier paused.

"The king and his black dragon have finally left Uru'Baen!" Gasps and shrieks were heard as Eragon leapt lightly off his rock, and pulled his boots on.

"Quick, children, run back to your tents and alert your families!" He then jumped onto Saphira with a nod to the soldier, before flying off to the battlefront, the last tale of the Brothers, abandoned.

The field was about 10 acres wide, separating the city from the Varden. Far enough to avoid projectiles, yet close enough to be observed. And Eragon's sessions with the children were duly noted, as Eragon often saw a soldier standing in patrol, staring at the little group from the battlements. He alighted in the front of the army that had gathered haphazardly, next to Nasuada and Arya.

"So." He said to his liege lord. "It's started."

Nasuada nodded, and carefully arranged her skirt, metal gauntlets clacking.

"It would seem so."

Eragon slid off Saphira, and turned to Arya.

"You are ready, Drottningu?"

Her startling green eyes met his, filled with the same passion and determination as ones he'd known so long ago. Except they were emerald, instead of sapphire. Sapphire! Winry would hit him if she knew he was describing them as such.

"Aye. As ready as I could be. The fate of this world rests now in our hands, and so we march forward to confront it. But know that-"

He tuned out. It was hard to keep up with the elf's annoying ways of going on and on and on…. A roar interrupted Arya, and they looked up to see two dragons shoot down in the middle of the field, the black dragon in front, the red one flanking him. Two men got off, and stood there, waiting.

"Well, I guess I know what I'm supposed to do…" muttered Eragon as he walked forward, feeling the gazes of the Varden on his back. The walk should have been a few minutes, at most, but for his it stretched for hours, as he strolled forward, hands in his pockets.

He was glad that they would have some space from the rest f the army. He would need some space. A smirk rose up on his lips, and he felt himself, again after the longest time ever, staring at the face of his enemy. Glancing at Saphira, he felt the same hum of energy. She knew that he was different now. He was Fullmetal, again.

Stopping metres away from his brother and his king, Eragon stared first at the face of this king. Black hair framed a strong face, shining onyx eyes boring deep into Eragon's soul. Eyes almost like that of a certain Colonel he knew long ago.

"Eragon. We finally meet." Galbatorix projected his voice so that it echoed over the field, the Varden and the Empire alike hearing it. Smirking, Eragon drew a gloved finger at his throat and did the same.

"I can't say it's a pleasure." He intoned. Galbatorix smiled menacingly, and stepped forward.

"I feel I have to ask in person… Will you join me and your brother, Murtagh? You know it is your fate to, as the son of Morzan to serve me."

Opening his mind, he could feel the horror of the Varden as they realized who his father was. Betrayal, disgust, and open anger were evident.

Eragon laughed. The childish sound echoing off the open field. Murtagh glared at him, before hissing something that sent a blade of cold through him. He quieted. Galbatorix looked amused.

"I think I'll decline. It is, after all, the son's role to surpass the father. I must say, though, my King, you are different from what I had expected. One would not find you out of place sitting aside a fireplace, nursing children, instead of staining your hands with the blood of millions of innocents, say?"

Galbatorix frowned, before his smile widened. He chuckled, a deep sound, over the silence of the thousands.

"And you are not what I had expected, or hoped. It is refreshing to see youth with such humour and vitality. I mean, just look at your brother Murtagh. So gloomy and depressing. I'll enjoy having you in my court."

Eragon was mildly surprised by the fact that they had manage to exchange such pleasantries. He inclined his head.

"Sire, surely you know that a log could even beat Murtagh in the personality department." The scowl on his brother's face widened as he continued. "I would die a premature death if I had hang around him as much as you have, so I applaud you." He gave a mocking bow, as he heard a few chuckles behind him, as the Varden started to feel more relaxed. Good.

"However," he continued. "I regret that I will not be accompanying you to your court, as this is where you will die."

Behind him, the crowds cheered. Murtagh had his hand on the hilt of his sword, glancing at Galbatorix for instructions. The king raised his hand at him, and snarled angrily at Eragon, before fading into a stern expression.

"Mind your mouth boy! A pity that I will have to crush all of that spirit in you before I drag you back to Uru' Baen in chains!"

Eragon ran a hand threw his hair, before sighing dramatically.

"You have no idea how many times I've had that said to us." He glanced at Saphira. "And yet, we're still here, free, and opposing you."

The king's eyes gleamed evilly as he shouted.

"Well, that's going to change! Shruikan!" With a sound like thunder, Shruikan slammed his forelegs on the ground, and snarled. Eragon gazed back, nonchalant. A single word slipped past his lips.

"Envy." The dragon looked startled for a moment, before a great voice boomed in the heads of all present.

_So, I see you've figured it out, shorty. _

"Who're you calling short!" A cry of outrage, as the voice laughed mentally.

_I was surprised to see you. Alive that is. Didn't I kill you?_

Everyone present looked curiously Eragon, wondering what the two could be talking about. They obviously knew each other, but how?

"Shruikan? What are you saying?" Galbatorix questioned, but he was ignored by both parties. Murtagh and Thorn exchanged a look.

"Sure you did, but then I killed you, remember? And we got transmuted here. Truth, that bastard."

_I for one find our current positions ironic, eh? This time you're the rebel and I'm the army. _

"Yeah, but you're still up to your schemes, really, disguising yourself as a dragon? What are you, scared to face me down here?"

The giant voice chuckled, again, and everyone winced mentally.

_I'm afraid that this time, you won't be so lucky. I'll kill you here, and then hunt down Hohenhiem. _

"Think again! I have something better to do. I won't let you kill me and leave Al alone, again! I'm going back for my little brother."

In front of him, Eragon heard a gasp from Murtagh, just as he felt a voice in his mind.

Eragon, what are you talking about? How do you know Shruikan? Arya whispered.

_That thing isn't Shruikan_, he whispered back, _there was never a Shruikan. _He felt her confusion at the other end, and guiltily crushed it down.

Facing Envy, he felt his blood boil as the beast stared amusedly back at him.

_Fool, your brother's dead. He sacrificed himself for you! You don't have anyone to go back to!_

Eragon felt tears gathering at the edge of his eyes. _No_, he thought. _Al's still there…I came here, so Al-he must be still alive. I can feel it! _Angrily, he startled everyone assembled, as he reached down, and started pulling his boots of. Soldiers of the Varden and Empire alike were shocked as they witnessed the mighty Shadeslayer pull off his heavy looking black boots, revealing two very small, pale feet.

"Look! I have my leg back! It's flesh and blood again! That means that Al must have given something in return. Which proves that he's alive-only fractured." He wiggled his toes, and looked up at the dragon.

Shruikan, or Envy rather, lunged forward, and the Varden looked on in horror as he took a swipe at the unmoving, barefoot Rider.

A single line of blood appeared on the boy's left leg, slowly dripping down. The dragon looked angry for a moment, and then retreated.

"What are you doing, Shruikan? Capture him!" Galbatorix shouted, angrily.

_Stay back, everyone. This little pipsqeauk is mine!_

Eragon looked enraged at being called pipsqueak, and shouted back, "Who are you calling so short that he uses a ladder to climb onto bed?"

Meanwhile, the Varden gazed at each other in astonishment, while Murtagh smirked, shocked that their Rider had acted so-so childlike. It was easy to forget that the boy was only sixteen, after all.

Envy snorted, before regaining his composure.

_Very well, I see your reasoning…But that's not going to stop me from killing you and crushing this feeble little rebellion. Besides, if you go back, what's going to happen to your precious Varden? They rely on you so much, after all. _

Eragon glared back up at the dragon, before finally drawing Brisingr.

"That's why I intend to finish this here and now." He turned to Galbatorix.

"Idiot boy! You will never defeat me, Eragon, son of none." The king snarled.

"And that's where you're wrong." Eragon gazed back, the brown eyes alit with fire, burning brighter, brighter, until the warm chocolate was replaced by a fiery gold. His clear voice drifter over the field as he proclaimed,

"I am Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and son of Hohenhiem of Light."

**Eh, so the ending was really bad, but hopefully I will be able to scrounge the remnants of this plot in the next instalment…until then, Read and Review!**


End file.
